


opposites attract

by naruhoe



Series: the tagalong (warcraft) [1]
Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: (due to species), Age Difference, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 05:42:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20737145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naruhoe/pseuds/naruhoe
Summary: A troll scout and an elven mercenary encounter one another one dark night, or: Vartan Summerborn's accounting of the night he met the irritating, overconfident, audaciously obstinate, brash young troll named Tae'fon.





	1. one

"I wouldn't have expected anything less of a troll."

The cold voice came from behind the troll's back. The words themselves were as mocking as they were world-weary, only accentuated by the sharp press of a blade against the trespasser's throat. Slanted green eyes narrowed as the blade pressed slightly harder. Having found the troll sifting about his belongings as he returned to the campsite, Vartan considered himself lucky (read: 'skilled') to have had the element of surprise in catching his unwanted visitor unawares. Surely, though, even without having caught the knave unawares, the outcome would have been the same...

"I would ask your name had I the patience to hear you speak a moment longer than necessary." Vartan said, lip curling in distaste. "Unfortunately for you, I find my patience limited tonight. Why are you here, troll?" His captive remained where it was, crouched and unmoving for the blade at its neck. Vartan could practically feel his patience trickling away. "Speak wisely."

The lanky figure had frozen where it crouched, long arms still outstretched, poised over the open contents of Vartan's saddlebags. Long braids of coarse white hair shifting across that broad back, the troll ever so slowly turned his head to the side, breath hissing out from beneath his mask as the blade pressed warningly against his neck. Two sharply curving tusks extended beneath the wooden mask that the troll wore. Both were adorned with loops of various metals, one tusk encircled by an iron and silver band, the other having had small holes drilled into it so that a row of ornamental silver rings could be inserted to clink softly against one another as he moved.

Without the shadow of a doubt, the troll's most uncommon feature had to be the color of his skin, a blue so pale that it could easily be mistaken for white. His long hair was equally as pale, a snowy white into which had been braided an array of colorful glass beads (predominantly red) that clinked softly against one another as he moved. Vartan could have seen (or heard) him coming from a mile away. Two miles. Really- did this troll _honestly_ consider himself a scout?

Tilting his head back, the troll momentarily offered a glimpse of the intelligent brown eyes that hid behind the thin eyeslits in the wooden mask that he wore. "Tae'fon be my name.." A lilting voice answered the elf, heavily accented and slightly breathless, oddly enough. Perhaps because of the knife held to his throat. Perhaps something else.

"I been watching; following..." The movement of his tusks suggested a smirk beneath the mask. "...Captain Vartan. 'Da Horde wants your head. 'Dey want it bad."

Fantastic. The troll knew his name. Vartan felt his lip curling up even more, the tips of those long ears, pierced three gold loops per ear, actually seeming to draw back in irritation in that moment. A troll, and a chatty one, at that. Just his brand of luck, really. "Tae'fon, is it?" He said silkily, an edge of steel to the silky smoothness of his voice: almost as if the pressing edge of his blade against the troll's neck had been translated into a sound.

"Humor me, if you would." The elf's voice seemed to roughen, dipping lower as the volume dropped steeply. The following words were spoken near-directly into the troll's ear. "Exactly how much is the Horde willing to pay for my head?"

Two breaths passed. The blood elf's ears twitched again, this time in response to the sudden silence. Vartan's impatience was beginning to rise before the troll finally saw fit to untwist its tongue and answer him. "'Da same price as any traitor." Interestingly enough, that word choice had the elf's muscular shoulders bunching, tensing and releasing in the restless manner of the guilty. "Your weight in gold, Captain."

Vartan ignored the cold, closing dread at the center of his chest. "You should have chosen a fatter target." He said coldly, sword arm tensing as he prepared to take the miserable creature's head from its shoulders. But to his surprise, the troll's voice rose, shoulders shaking in what was undeniably... laughter? Full-belly chuckles which only grew louder and more mirthful with each passing second.

"I never be knowing dat an elf could crack a joke." Snickered the troll.

Irritation rose in his throat, cloying and sharp as it adhered itself to his tongue. "Truly, to mock he who holds a blade to your throat, your kind must have less wit than I ever imagined." Vartan snapped, irritation clinging to the fine lines about his mouth.

So indignant was he that Vartan did not see the headbutt coming until the back of the troll's skull had collided with his forehead, cracking against the top of his nasal ridge with a burst of dizzying pain that briefly had him seeing stars (Troll bones were _dense_.) as, simultaneously, the troll's bony elbow sunk into his midsection, unerringly targeting the area where Vartan's armor was purposefully lighter as to allow range of movement. In the space of a moment, his captive was once again free with only a small cut along the side of that pale neck to show that he had ever been caught. The crimson beads of blood that rose there were near startling against the contrast of that pale skin.

To his credit, Vartan recovered quickly, blinking the stars from his vision as he swung his saber in a long, dangerous arc at the troll, who leaped back with an agility Vartan had seldom seen among his kind. Nonetheless, the impudent scout was still free, now blinking at him through the slits in that creepy mask from across the embers of the campfire. In addition, the scout had gotten his three-fingered hands on the pair of long bone daggers, presumably drawn from the now-empty sheaths which hung on either side of the troll's muscular thighs. Vartan eyed him warily, now. He was awfully quick for a troll, and Vartan was in no hurry to taste those bone blades.

For a long moment, the air seemed to hang between them, the glowing distortions that the heat of the dying embers exuded the only source of movement between them.

Never one to be taken by surprise twice, Vartan made his move in the space between breaths... and vaulted through the shimmering heat mirage of the slowly smoldering firepit, landing in such a way that his skidding feet sprayed a small shower of mixed embers and sparks up into his surprised opponent's face. Most of them ricocheted off of the cover which the troll's mask provided, but a few of the smaller projectiles landed or rolled across the top of his opponent's head, provoking a surprised yelp as the hot embers made contact with sensitive skin.

Momentarily blinded, the troll swung out in a wild arc with his blades, trying to rid himself of the remaining embers while avoiding Vartan as best he could. Not done yet, however, Vartan deftly avoided the disoriented swipe of a knife, rolling forward only to pop up a moment later, the pommel of his saber connecting with one of the daggers and knocking it from the troll's grasp.

A pained grunt escaped his opponent, who lashed out, aiming a kick at the squirmy elf. Vartan avoided the powerful kick, staying tucked to avoid the swipe of the right dagger as he kicked its fallen mate out of reach.

The troll's hand was most certainly numb where Vartan had knocked his blade from his grasp, or so Vartan judged by the way the scout's fingers didn't quite close all the way as he leapt back, placing more distance between himself and the blood elf, those light-brown eyes of his wary through the slits in his mask. As they caught their breath, it dawned upon both opponents almost simultaneously that there was an unpleasant scent to the air, potent and acrid: Burning hair.

The troll uttered a wordless snarl and caught the edge of his mask with the numbed fingers of his free hand, pulling it from his face in one abrupt movement, whereafter, he redirected his efforts to patting down the singed areas, hissing as his fingers made contact with the singed hair. Eyes locking with those of his opponent, Tae'fon tossed the mask into the dust between the two of them.

Features no longer concealed by the mask, it was revealed that the scout had caramel eyes which reflected the flickering emberlight of the fire. His long nose was hooked like some fierce bird of prey. His face was long and expressive; but his mouth was currently twisted in a grimace that showed off both curving tusks and the strong, sharp rows of his teeth. In the dim light provided by the firepit, Vartan could barely make out the long, thin scar which ran down the left side of his face, from temple to where it ended abruptly at the top of his left tusk, where a deep nick indicated where the inflictor of the scar had come to an abrupt, grinding halt.

Despite his clear irritation with his singed hair, as the troll's attention was turned back to his elven opponent, there was something in his intense gaze that gave Vartan pause, forcing him to take a second look so that he could decipher what exact emotion was lurking in those ardent caramel eyes. Impossibly enough, there was only one answer. The _troll_\- this 'Tae'fon_'_ -was looking at Vartan, not with aggravation for the loss of his knife, nor even any of the baleful displeasure Vartan had expected for the trick with the coals, but with a brand of calf-eyed _admiration_. Vartan privately balked, the only sign of his confusion showing on the exterior as the drawing-together of his brows. You didn't _admire_ your enemies. Not for very long, at least.

The annoyance snuck up on him so fast that Vartan did not even have a chance to swallow it this time. Green eyes narrowed to slits, handsome mouth twisting in a scowl, the words escaped him as a hiss. "Stop _looking_ at me like that." Vartan gritted out, feeling very displeased indeed, though he could not, for the life of him, pinpoint its source.

He glared, the glow of his green eyes thinning dangerously when the troll had the gall to look confused- and then _smug_. Like he'd won the battle. Or something.

"Like what?" Parroted the scout, playing at innocence, like his eyes hadn't strayed. Like he didn't know. Vartan resisted the growl bubbling up in his throat, settling for a cool stare instead, the coolest he could manage. Anger clouded the mind.

"I grow tired of your games, troll." 

The troll leapt back, avoiding the first jab and slash, but Vartan continued onward, forcing Tae’fon to waste precious time and effort dodging and parrying the aggressive advances from his sword-wielding opponent. Vartan found his interest piqued when the other gave a low growl upon the impact of another successful parry: an exchange of bone against steel that sent the troll's knife back with a new nick to its razor edge. It was foolish to be sentimental about one's weapons, especially of a blade made of such fickle material as bone. 

"Surrender!" Vartan demanded over the sound of their combat. To his credit, the troll did not hesitate once, but continued the deadly dance of their blades, fluidly ducking Vartan's saber and returning a jab that nearly nicked the elf's retreating swordarm. 

Tae'fon bared his teeth in a fierce grin that showed altogether too many fangs to be friendly. Vartan found his interest momentarily aroused by that mouthful of sharp, dangerous teeth. The embers flickered in the troll's caramel eyes. Vartan, looking back, supposed that should have been his first warning that the odds were beginning to shift. The second, of course, was when the troll opened his mouth to say two words.

"Make me." Tae'fon challenged, lips pulling back over his sharp teeth as his caramel eyes took on an uncannily combative gleam. Without hesitation (and it was most certainly this lack of hesitation that made Vartan himself hesitate), the troll lunged forward and yanked a burning stick from the firepit, sending a spray of sparks everywhere as he shoved it into the elf's face.

Instinctually, Vartan brought up his arms as a shield as he reared back, eyes squeezing closed as his skin erupted into gooseflesh at the sensation of a heat so intense far too close to his vulnerable skin. For the space of a second, still anticipating a pain that did not come, Vartan was confused. The flame hadn't so much as kissed his skin. 

And then he realized. It hadn't been meant to. Less than a second later, something collided with his chest with the force of a ballista, or perhaps a battering ram, and Vartan, having quite forgotten how to breathe, went down in a heap of tangled limbs.

When he opened his eyes, some moments later, it was to the sight of two great brown eyes staring down at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly self-indulgent BS about self-indulgent original characters. I'm not an expert in Warcraft lore, so this is all a load of guesswork and consulting Wiki articles LOL. Regardless, leave a comment or kudos (or both if you're daring!) if you enjoyed!


	2. two

The great cat crouched atop the blood elf tossed its head, tusked maw splitting in a low, rumbling growl as if to celebrate its victory. From the dense fur of its undercoat to the coarse mane that followed the sinuous line of its spine from head to mid-back, the creature was ghostly pale. The only colors to mark it were the glass beads braided into its mane and the faded streaks of red paint that striped its flanks, along with, of course, those intense caramel eyes.

Large paws tipped with strong, onyx claws flexed against the elf's chest, puncturing neither the cured leather of the elf's cuirass nor delicate skin where those massive paws had hedged up onto the elf's chest, claws pricking at the hollow of his throat. It was a demonstration of the great cat's reserve that the elf remained whole and unmarked, sans even a scratch. The animal continued to regard its downed opponent with those deep-set eyes; eyes that held more unsettling intelligence than any animal had any right to have.

Around the beast's neck, there hung an amulet. It hung from a length of coarsely-braided twine, and, irregular in shape and color, it looked to have been carved from bone.

The shape of the beast seemed to blur around the edges, distorting in such a way that made Vartan's head ache to behold as beast became man again (Or in this case, troll). An earthy smell pervaded the air, which seemed to glow around the shifter's form, a distinct green aura. His weight never left Vartan's chest as the troll's form reasserted itself there atop of the disoriented elf. Tae'fon's hands, quick as striking snakes, clamped tight around Vartan's wrists, easily pinning them to the forest floor. 

Luminous green eyes dazed, a small frown manifested itself on Vartan's features, creasing his brow ever so slightly as he stared up at his opponent. "You cheated." Vartan accused. It sounded petulant, even to his own ears.

For the second time that night, the troll's voice rose in laughter. The way the scout was straddling him, Vartan could easily feel the shake of his body as the other continued to chuckle quietly, and though it subsided after a while, the troll still wore a satisfied smile, which, oddly enough, was neither crude nor gloating, but actually seemed to be borne of true enjoyment. The silver loops in his long ears clinked against one another as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

"Yes." Tae'fon said, his smile turning sly, more akin to a smirk, now. "You be a skilled fighter." He remarked, and then had the gall to _wiggle_, apparently playing at getting more comfortable as if he weren't seated atop of Vartan; as if Vartan couldn't feel the shifting of his lean hips. Vartan feared to admit that he was far more aware of it than he should have been.

"But Tae'fon has more than one trick up his sleeve."

It was a good thing that he still felt so dazed, or else Vartan might have felt compelled to prove that this impudent troll scout wasn't the only one with hidden depths. Suddenly, however, the troll was leaning forward, beads clinking, leather rustling. He smelled... He smelled not at all unpleasant, actually, not like Vartan had expected a _troll_ to smell like. Like smoke, and fur warmed by sunlight, and crushed pine needles, and supple cured leather, and as he looked upwards, it was with an unpleasant jolt of surprise that Vartan realized just how young this Tae'fon really was.

In the dark, it was altogether too easy to let one's imagination fill in the gaps, but here, in the flickering light cast by the dying fire, Vartan could easily make out the troll's features. His skin was smooth in only the way that youth could have been responsible for, the line of his jaw sharp and defined, the bridge of his nose just a little crooked, obviously having suffered a break once or twice, his mouth and eyes unlined, uncreased by the passage of time. Every inch of his frame was leanly muscled, from powerful shoulders & well-defined arms to his trim waist. He couldn't have had more than two decades beneath his belt. 

It was well-known that elves were longer lived than other races, outlying _kal'dorei_ elders aside. Vartan himself was... _Well_. It was impolite to say, or to ask, for that matter. Suffice to say that generations of Amani had tasted his steel. He had still been green at the time of the Second War, but he remembered as well as any other the screams of the defenseless and dying as the bloody tide of the Horde and their trollish allies swept through Quel'Thalas's countryside. Tae'fon was practically an infant compared to him. 20 years were as a blink of an eye for an elf. Any elf. Even the young ones. 

"You look like you be thinking hard." The troll's voice interrupted Vartan's private musings, dragging him back to the present ...and his current lapful of troll shifter. Vartan had swallowed the bait for that trick, hook, line and sinker. Tae'fon had neither the look nor the mannerisms of a druid, but then again, even if he were no mage, the aura Vartan had sensed had been anything but orthodox.

The elf's eyes narrowed as he came to notice that their faces had come rather too close for his liking, not much more than a tusk-length away; more than close enough for him to really study those intelligent brown eyes. Not that he wanted to. The troll's hands were warm where they encircled Vartan's wrists, their palms rough with callouses. Vartan knew it was not his imagination when something (a thumb) dared to pet the clenching tendons along the inside of one wrist in a deceivingly soothing way. Resisting the urge to squirm, Vartan pushed a sharp exhale through his nose, using it as a method of centering himself. "What kind of thoughts dey be?" Tae'fon crooned.

Vartan deliberately ignored both question and the odd cant of the troll's tone, turning one wrist as if stretching sore muscles to surreptitiously check Tae'fon's grip strength, which he found to be disappointingly firm. The odds of him wriggling a way out of this position were similarly disappointing. Fine. Out with it, then.

"You've taken me by surprise once already." Never again. Vartan wouldn't bear the indignity. "You have me at your mercy. So what do you want? Gold? A trophy? Does this get your rocks off? Or do you intend to drag me back to your _Warchief _after all?" If the inflection of the last word was a little more vitriolic than the rest, that was Vartan's business, and Vartan's alone.

The younger was still and quiet for a long moment, but his grip on his captive's wrists never lessened. The mirth had faded from the light brown of his eyes, but Vartan still found himself faintly unnerved by the intelligence behind them, just as he had been when it had been a great cat had been crouched atop of him, staring down at him with those fathomless brown eyes.

"No."

Vartan arched an irritated brow at the single word; that one word, devoid of explanation, devoid of intonation. "_No_?" He prodded, needled by the sheer amount of time it was taking the troll to _get to the point_. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, he was starting to get heavy, too. Trolls were significantly heavier than pretty sin'dorei courtesans, as it turned out. 

"No." Repeated the troll. Beads clinked and leather rustled as the young troll shifted, bringing the two of them even closer, much to Vartan's chagrin. It was near impossible to ignore his crushed pine-needle scent, now. Tae'fon had slim curving tusks, ivory in color and with a slight upward curve to them, and though they looked blunt now, Vartan had seen too many an elf gored by troll tusks to be so ignorant as to think them harmless. He stilled, directing his gaze warily upwards. 

There was an odd tension in the air. It clung to every breath

"Tae'fon let you go," A single, scornful eyebrow rose, skepticism and surprise warring for control on the elf's face. "-wit' one condition." Vartan found himself completely unprepared when the young troll leaned in, head tilting forward until their foreheads touched. Vartan inhaled once, sharp and surprised. Those caramel eyes were captivating, so rich and deep, full of intelligence... and _obstinance_. 

"Where you go," Murmured the troll, heavily-accented voice pitched low and smooth, like the slow, viscous drip of honey from the comb. A distant part of Vartan's stunned mind registered the subtle loosening of the troll's grip around his wrists just as a warm pressure brushed the plane of his cheek. Belatedly, he realized that Tae'fon had released his grip on one of his wrists and was now caressing where jaw met neck with those big, blunt, shockingly-dexterous fingers. The sensation was so light that if Vartan closed his eyes, it could have been a butterfly alighting there. 

"Tae'fon goes with you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had this work tagged with an 'Explicit' warning, but I took it off as I felt that sex this early on wouldn't fit the narrative I'm trying to achieve here. I will soon be creating a series for this particular pairing's adventures, so stay tuned if you were interested~ Comments and kudos welcome (both if you're daring- it would make my day!!)!


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